


The Vault

by Rigel99



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond Is A Provocateur, M/M, Q Is A Mark, Seduction, Sex in the Dark, Strangers, The vault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:49:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rigel99/pseuds/Rigel99
Summary: A reworking of an existing story done for the Hannigram fandom in 00Q form. Complete.No fun. No snark. Bond is a dark character with psychopathic tendencies.Because I want to and I can.





	1. Chapter 1

Fear and self-loathing drove him there as much as kept him away from real human contact. Q’s infrequent visits to the Vault were a balm to a frustrated body that couldn’t separate itself from his overcrowded mind. The only time such a separation could be achieved was in the blind recesses found in the dark rooms of the Vault. And after his encounter with Bond earlier that day under the watchful and curious gaze of Gareth Mallory, he’d never needed that separation and release more.

* * *

 Bond didn’t have to wait long outside River House until he saw Q exit the building. Bond could tell from the direction of travel that he wasn’t immediately heading home, catching a bus instead of his usual trundle towards the Vauxhall underground. No time like the present to delve into the mind of this intriguing individual, Bond considered. He started his car and pulled out to follow.

* * *

Disembarking a few blocks from the venue, Q made his way along semi-crowded pavements with a singular purpose towards his destination. Bond walked on the opposite side of the street, some yards behind him, keeping him in his peripheral vision. He watched Q disappear around the corner of a fairly inconspicuous building and smiled to himself. While Bond had never himself become acquainted with the venue, he knew about the reputation of the Vault from a few of Double O colleagues. Well, well, Quartermaster, he thought to himself. Bond hadn’t planned on an intimate interlude quite so soon in their relationship but such an opportunity was far too delicious to pass over. With that thought and a singular purpose of his own, Bond followed.

* * *

The tension in his body lifted as soon as he entered the room. A different kind of darkness, in its physicality, as opposed to the usual dark he sometimes inhabited in his work for Queen and Country. He allowed it to wrap him up in its warm, relaxed embrace. Here he could lose himself. Here, he was fearless. Here, he could give himself over to his own more primordial senses. Touch was the purpose, the goal, escape. Anonymous, simple, no-strings-attached intimacy. He sighed to himself as he felt a pair of strong, warm, long-fingered hands gently come to rest on his waist…

* * *

His scent was unmistakeable, as distinct and unique as the mind of the man himself. It took Bond only a few minutes to identify his target amongst the other wanton bodies scattered throughout the sweaty, sex-infused air. The trail of the aroma led him to a quiet corner of the room. Bond was feeling somewhat heady with anticipation but kept his enthusiasm in check, reaching forward when he sensed a sharp increase in the concentration of Q’s scent. His hand found his waist and slipped down a couple of inches to rest on his hip as the other hand slid gently around to rest on his navel before drawing himself forward to rest a chin on his shoulder. He heard a relaxed sigh before he allowed himself to inhale at his neck deeply, forced to swallow the rush of saliva that invaded his mouth in response to the stimulus of his intoxicating aroma. He changed his accent, reverting to a Scottish-infused husky timbre in case Q recognised his voice and made a simple offer.

“Anything you want. All you have to do is ask…”

* * *

Q honed in on the voice behind him, zoning out the soft moans and sounds of slick, sweaty movements of skin-against-skin around them. The statement had momentarily caught him off-guard. Never had he entered these rooms and been propositioned in such a way. As with most circumstances in his life, work, acquaintances, even the dependency which he felt from his much-loved felines, usually, the situation was all about take from, not give to him. He felt oddly gratified at being afforded the privilege. He felt a warmth pool in his stomach in response to the words. Despite being caught a little off-guard, he felt safe in the anonymity provided by the dense, impenetrable darkness. Raw honesty came easily when one wasn’t burdened with the knowledge of identity.

 _I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. I can just be,_ Q thought to himself.

“No one has ever said those words to me before,” Q said softly as he raised a hand to rest on the one on his stomach belonging to the stranger.

“Really?” the word danced in a gently-whispered breath against the skin beneath which Q’s jugular calmly pulsed. “I find such behaviour incredibly rude.” Bond took a small step back and placed his hands on Q’s shoulders, slowly running his fingertips down his shirt, his touch deliberately light across shoulder blades, index fingers tracing down either side of his spine, his thumbs coming to rest gently in the small of his back, fingers splayed again above his hips, barely, just barely, slipping into the narrow space between skin and the material of his waistband.

“Do you trust me?”

In the dark, Q felt himself frown before replying. “Trust is implicit in this situation. Were you to abuse it, everyone in the place would beat you to an unrecognisable pulp…”

Despite the hint of danger dancing on the end of the question, Q remained calm but intrigued. Normally, by this stage, his pants would be around his ankles and some sweaty, desperate no-face would be taking all he could, feasting on him for their own gratification, sometimes leaving him a panting mess to bring himself to completion. Q made to turn towards the voice as Bond placed gentle but firm hands on his upper arms, effectively halting the motion.

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

Q heard the unmistakeable sound of a belt buckle being undone and the sound of it slide through silky material.

“I’m going to hazard a guess that you don’t know what you want,” the voice remained low, steady and reassuring. Q felt his normally busy mind lull in response to its almost hypnotic sound.

“Perhaps I don’t…”

Q wasn’t sure what to expect, but knew he was safe in the Vault and the man wouldn’t do anything to which he didn’t freely consent. So, he didn’t resist as the stranger took hold of his hands and drew them around behind his back, crossing his wrists before weaving the belt around them. Bond stepped up close behind Q again and reached around to finger the buttons of his shirt, plucking them undone slowly, baring his chest inch by inch to the warm, humid air as he spoke.

“Will you allow me to explore and perhaps shed some light on what it is you want? As you seem incapable of asking for yourself?”

Q was getting a little lost in the stranger’s touch to register that the words coming from his lips should have sounded a little familiar.

He felt his head drop back to rest on the stranger’s chest as the concession slipped in a rasp, wanton whisper from his lips, powerless to deny the need blossoming beneath his skin, clawing for release.

“Yes…”


	2. Chapter 2

In darkness was freedom. Bond was all too well acquainted with that knowledge. Now, however, he revelled in the uninhibited sensuality afforded by this different kind of darkness in which he found himself. Lust and desire, not blood and death, were his companions this evening. He could see the attraction and how the weak-minded could easily become addicted to the drug of sexual anonymity. That thought raised a conflicting thought in his mind. As he finished undoing the buttons of Q’s cardigan, his chest now in a warm press against his back, he felt compelled to ask a question.

“Forgive me,” he whispered against his ear, “despite our being strangers in the dark, I’m guessing you don’t make a habit of these types of….liaisons?”

Bond felt Q’s body tense at the comment but continued in spite of it. Intent on alleviating the tension before continuing, he slipped his fingers around the collar of Q’s shirt and drew it gently off his shoulders and down his arms to hang from his bound wrists. “Tell me, not that I’m complaining, why now? What brings you here today?”

He felt Q relax slightly under his gentle ministrations. Bond’s instincts told him that he would use the darkness to his advantage, reveal without exposing himself.

“An encounter. Earlier today. With a man,” Q whispered. Bond felt a rare but genuine smile breach his features.

“This encounter. Unsettling, was it?”

“Yes. I couldn’t read him. Normally, I can read most everyone. My job demands it.”

“Until him…” Bond said.

“Yes. Until him.” Bond almost felt Q mentally shake himself with the change of tone that entered his voice. “No more talk. You’re supposed to be exploring my body, not my mind.”

Bond gave the briefest rumble of a chuckle from behind closed lips. “True.”

Q lifted his reclining head from Bond’s chest and Bond could tell he’d turned his head to ask, “May I turn around?”

“Not yet,” whispered Bond, running his palms up Q’s sides to gentle caress his chest. A soft moan signalled that so far, Bond was doing everything right. He wondered how long it had been since Q, drowned daily by the demands of his job, had allowed himself to feel for himself and himself alone.

He stilled his hands on their downward journey when they reached the belt of his trousers. No words exchanged, he felt Q nod his assent. As Bond unbuckled the metal clasp and freed the buttons from their holes, he wondered if tonight’s experience would only amplify his own desires, to have that sweet and tempting pulse against his lips. He was proving far too interesting, a mind unlike any other and completely worthy of further attention and study.…

Bond felt Q’s breath quicken as he slipped his hands down his hips to caress his thighs.

“How am I doing so far?” Bond husked low and quiet.

“I think you know how you’re doing,” said Q, shifting his legs so that the waist slipped down to his knees. _And what you’re doing_ , thought Q to himself, grateful for whatever God of Sensuality had seen fit to push this particular man into his path tonight.

Bond almost involuntarily found himself inhaling deeply again, and as the rush of hormones coursing through Q’s body flooded his nostrils, he found himself dropping to his knees behind his superior officer. In one swift but painfully gentle move, Bond pressed his lips to the tail of Q’s spine while simultaneously reaching between his thighs to glide his palm across the front of his boxers.

“Jesus Christ!” Q rasped, before his knees buckled and without hands to break his fall, collapsed face down on the wide, soft sofa in front of him.

Q was fleetingly glad of the darkness. Uncontrolled breath was coming quick and fast as strong hands gripped his arms and rolled him back to his feet, before pulling him down again to straddle the thighs of the stranger now positioned beneath him.

When the soft, warm voice spoke, Q could sense the smile behind the words. “Now that I have you where I want you, I think it’s time to turn things around…”

* * *

Q was feeling lightheaded and somewhat giddy with desire. Not his typical modus operands by any stretch of any imagination. The consuming darkness was only serving to heighten remaining available senses and amplifying the need coursing through his body. He’d come to the Vault frustrated, expecting a quick, mindless ass-pounding to centre his head, and rid himself of the distraction he had felt during his encounter with the inscrutable mindfuck that was James bloody Bond. Contrary to that plan, however, he was presently on course for being swept so far off his feet, he may as well be standing in the eye of a hurricane teetering on the edge of a cliff.

He tried to keep the begging tone from his voice. He almost succeeded. Almost.

“Please. Untie my wrists.”

“Why would I do that?” Bond enquired, his hands resting on Q’s bare thighs.

“I want to touch you.”

Q felt Bond lean forward towards him. He mirrored the movement, hoping to meet his lips. That collision was barely avoided by Bond’s splayed hand, quickly rising to place against his chest. Q had never before felt so safe in the dark. That touch, resting on a stuttering heartbeat, became the pinpoint of the sensations travelling across the heated skin currently having its own internal battle, shivering goosebumps searching for a spot to breach through the heat.

“You want to touch me now,” Bond whispered against his lips. “Not five minutes ago you didn't know what you wanted.”

Bond leaned back against the couch again, allowing the weight of Q’s torso to push him resting against the back of the sofa again. The sounds around them had abated to muffled, white noise, both men focussing the access to what senses they had entirely on each other.

“Did it occur to you that I didn’t want you to be distracted by your own hands? That I wanted to afford you the luxury of my attentions?”

“You really are starting to make me wish I could see you,” Q’s whisper sounded with the aching need that was threatening to ignite nerve endings and transform them into ash.

“I think you see more than you let on.”

Again, Bond felt a moment of tension pass through his body and thought he had said too much.

“What makes you say that?” Q said softly.

Easily rectified, thought Bond. “The way you move your body with mine. It’s as though you read me before I read myself.”

And it was true. Q felt it. Without the distraction of eyes or the sense of sight, he could just _feel_ for the sake of feeling itself.

Bond kept one hand on Q’s chest, maintaining a teasing distance between them while running his fingers across the nape of his neck and up through the mass of thick luscious waves at the back of his head. “I think it’s safe to say, that having only just begun my exploration.”

Q huffed impatiently against the stranger’s lips. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

Bond brushed smiling, slightly parted lips against Q’s own. “You might be surprised to hear that I’m a good listener too, and that I’ve never found people that interesting. Until you.”

“Right now. I’m listening to you,” he lifted his hand from Q’s chest and placed it on his cheek, “and your body is singing to me.”

In that moment, both men surged towards each other, closing the space between them.

And while Q was lost, in truth, Bond was not far behind.


	3. Chapter 3

Q writhed above him as Bond explored his naked form with warm, seeking hands. He couldn’t help but compare the movement to a captured target, struggling to free themselves from the inevitability of their approaching end.

“You, are extremely sensitive.” 

Q smiled at the whisper that sounded almost enthralled by the realisation. His lack of regular indulgence in such practices no doubt made his skin incredibly so.

“Under the attention of the right hands. Yes. I am,” he whispered, feathering fleeting kisses across the strangers cheek towards his waiting mouth, sinking himself deeper into his lap.

“Damn…” he breathed. “When are you going to stop with the teasing and just take me?” he asked, struggling fruitlessly against the belt that still bound his wrists, rendering him helpless. Not that he was complaining, all things considered.

Bond was enjoying this particular chase far too much to give him what he wanted. Now that the mark was in his grasp, he would strive to see how long he could keep him breathlessly gagging for air before giving him the release he desperately demanded.

Now, Bond considered, how to keep things interesting. “Here’s what I want you to do,” Bond whispered, as he reached one hand without warning into the front of Q’s boxers and the other into the back for a gentle caress. Q lurched forward again in his lap, head falling to rest on the stranger’s shoulder. The feeling was exhilarating.

“I want you to go home, lie down in your bed, get a good night’s sleep and wake up thinking of me.”

Q struggled to sit back, as his hips sliding further forward still into the stranger's soft but firm grip. “Excuse me?” he murmured, his mind momentarily muddled by the words and the exploration of skilled fingers exactly where he wanted them.

Bond removed his hands and wrapped an arm around Q’s waist to manoeuvre him onto his back. Leaning his still fully suited body one final time - aching from the positively delicious and unrepentant advances of his Quartermaster - into his captive’s prone form, tangled in shirt and trousers, he smoothly rose from the sofa.

“Wait,” Q’s voice was edged with the sound of pleading. Bond was finding it difficult to maintain his composure and resist returning to his side.

“What’s your name?” Q whispered, struggling onto an elbow, knowing even as he asked the question he shouldn’t.

“Why don’t you give me a name. It can also be a safe word. A name that is yours and yours alone.”

Q barely hesitated. “Seven.”

It was a rare day indeed, when Bond felt his heart threaten to pound its way from within the confines of his chest.

“May I ask why?” Bond enquired, leaning down towards the still wristbound man.

Q felt himself shake his head, though knowing the stranger couldn’t see the response.

“I’ve always considered it lucky,” Q replied hesitantly with equal consideration and care for his words. 

“I see,” Bond said quietly, taking pity on Q, leaning down to kiss him gently while he reached around to loosen the belt.

Q remained still. “And you. Do you have a name for me?” he asked through the swell of barely parted lips.

Bond brushed his mouth against Q’s ear as he whispered.

“Mmmm,” he murmured in a muted tone against Q’s ear, loosening but not completely removing the belt. “I fancy calling you… Boffin.”

“I think I like that,” Q whispered.

“The time is 10.13pm on 16th April and exactly one month from now, at exactly this time you will be here, at The Vault, waiting for your Seven.” He paused for a beat. "And bring the belt," he husked quietly, as he stood up again.

Q closed his eyes and tried to calm the blood rush. “Yes.”

And with that Bond left. It sure as fuck was better than any post-mission psych eval he’d had to take in all his years as an agent of Her Majesty’s Secret Service.

* * *

Q was at his workstation early the next morning, aching, though perhaps not completely enough in the right kind of way that he wished he could be aching.

The confident stride of the man who would become his ultimate migraine and nemesis sounded on the hard floor behind him. He rolled his eyes and turned, bracing himself. He’d heard enough about the infamous 007 and the havoc he wrecked.

Well. There was a new Quartermaster in town now…

Q met the inscrutable gaze. He knew himself well enough to know that he would soon come to be infuriated by those piercing blue eyes that saw more than they had any right to see.

“Q.”

“Bond.”

Q stepped around him, but not too wide a berth. “Shall we get started?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway there. The remainder will be posted tonight. :)

Q checked his watch as he walked down the street towards The Vault. It was just before 10pm. Too early and he might have to fend off unwelcome advances. Too late and he might miss his window of opportunity. He smiled at the thought of his lack of hesitation in christening the stranger with the mantle of one infuriatingly attractive secret agent, but in that moment, the instinct had just felt _right_. He didn’t hesitate as he crossed the street towards the road that would take him to his destination.

While Bond target tracked his prey from the warmth of a coffee shop not fifty metres away.

* * *

 

It was little wonder that Bond found a friend in darkness. He had sought solace in its devouring of the cold light of day on countless occasions. This darkness however, was a whole other beast, a companion who he could rely on to feast on the welcoming flesh of one Quartermaster. He had used the past month to get closer, always requesting his oversight on missions, his personal attention when being kitted out, like a climber scaling an unknown rock face with its hidden crevasses and rugged surfaces concealing small kinks, gaining the barest foothold, as one knowing just how to expose the chinks beneath the unexplored features…

Q felt the spot in the sofa beside him dip softly.

“Hello Boffin.”

“It’s good to not see you again, Seven,” Q said through a smile as he slid his hand across the fabric towards his leg.

 _And you won’t see me for some time yet,_ thought Bond to himself _,_ wondering how long he could draw out the pleasant masochism.

“You’re usually quiet by comparison to our first encounter,” Q said, forcing the words out calmly as he moved closer to press his arm against his mysterious, rare unknown quantity. Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to tear the man’s clothes off and beg to be taken. He was feeling hot. His mind and body burning with anticipation. Still, he bided his time.

Bond felt the ghost of a hand over his cheek before he gently took hold of Q’s wrist.

“Still won’t let me touch you?” Q asked.

 

“I prefer my anonymity to be absolute,” he replied, caressing Q’s palms with his fingertips before raising them to his lips.

“I can tell these are talented hands and are capable of seeing as much as the eyes.”

Bond reached for the hem of his sweater. “And I want to lavish my attentions upon you without your own distraction,” he said, pushing his sweater up and over his head in one smooth movement.

“I want you focussed - completely - on your own pleasure,” his words washing over Q like a balm. “It would gratify my ego immensely to do this for you. Something about you… I sense you are in need of such attention more than I.”

His lips hovered teasingly over Q’s wrist.

Q’s curiosity was burning with every word. How could he read him so well?

“I know what you are thinking, Boffin, but please. Let’s not spoil the illusion, and accept the night for what it is.”

“You still talk too much,” murmured Q, as Bond trailed soft full lips up his arm, shoulder, collarbone and jaw before devouring Q’s mouth with his own.

But now that he was here, and having learned as much as he had about the delicious mind beneath the veneer of arguably MI6’s most talented asset, the counterpoint to his own very existence, Bond wasn’t sure he could go through with an act so baseless as taking Q’s body for his own gratification. Bond almost frowned to himself. Such hints of compassion were something of which he had not considered himself capable. And now, they were proving almost problematic. He was beginning to see Q as something more than the prickly boyish aloof with whom he worked so well, a toy to keep himself entertained between missions.

Q, it seemed, was doing a very good job of driving any hesitation from Bond’s considerations, losing himself in the kiss and doing a very good job of taking Bond along in the moment with him. Bond felt the rumble in Q’s chest as his kiss became increasingly heated. Sliding his hand down his chest, he fingered the belt around his waist.

“You’re wearing it.”

Q smiled against his lips. “You told me to bring it.”

And as Bond removed the belt to bind him again, he pushed Q to lay flat on the sofa beneath them.Dragging his jeans down trembling thighs, he devoured him.


	5. Chapter 5

Moneypenny was about to exit the bullpen of Q Branch after having shared a desk lunch with R when she hesitated, spotting Bond hovering over Q while he demonstrated the bells and whistles of the kit he would be taking along for the ride on his upcoming mission.

A one-way ride no doubt.

Moneypenny saw a lot more than she let on too. The manner in which Bond moved around him made it look like some kind of courtship dance….

Moneypenny scoffed to herself. _Q was far too sensible to start something with registered Lothario James Bond…_

She cleared her head of further thought on the subject and carried on her way.

* * *

After their initial prickly meeting, Q was wondering why Bond was being such a gentleman towards him. Gracious when instructed, appreciative of his kit….

It was… unnerving.

Q felt adrift, standing alone in the eye of Bond’s storm, snared by a demon in a person suit, watching him retreat to gather whatever else was required before he set off tomorrow to the US.

Q took a levelling breath when he was alone once more. He needed to ground himself again. To feel the terra firma that only touch could bring. He glanced at the clock on his laptop. It was nearly 7pm on August 16th. It was a slim chance that his mysterious stranger would be at their designated spot in The Vault. But it was a chance worth taking.

* * *

Even in those times when at the beck and call of world events, Bond had kept their regular scheduled meet at The Vault. He returned each month - same time, same date - not to seek out another, but merely to relive those precious few but undeniably tempestuous moments in the arms of the man that was slowly but certainly finding his way into Bond’s own. He smiled to himself as he sat on the sofa, savouring the thought. 

The game they were playing was a dangerous one. They both knew it and both were powerless to resist the relentless pull of the other.

Bond inhaled the sweat-drenched humanity around him and caught the scent.

_He’s here._

Bond barely had time to process the realisation when he felt Q’s hands glide up his thighs and swoop forward without hesitation to capture his lips in a breath-stealing kiss. He found Bond’s hands and intertwined their fingers to bring them up above his head.Bond’s physical reaction was instantaneous, testimony to the effect of the proximity of Q on his body.

“That’s the kind of hello I could get used to,” Q murmured as he released his hands, leaned back from the kiss and reached for the belt around his waist. _And this was a version of Q that I could very much grow accustomed to,_ Bond thought. He sensed Q wanted him to keep his hands above his head so remained still. Q wrapped and fastened the belt around his wrists and hitched it to the hook on the wall behind Bond's head.

“Is this OK?” Q whispered. As far as Bond was concerned, it was more than OK. He opted for silence, curious to allow whatever Q was planning to play out.

Straddling him, Q began without preamble, to undo the buttons of his shirt. “Not so talkative today, are we?”

“Maybe you’ve left me breathless. Lost for words, Boffin…”

The soft, self-depreciating laugh that Bond felt against his cheek told him exactly what he expected to hear from the man. “You don’t consider yourself capable of rendering a lover speechless?”

Q’s hands paused in their exploration. “Is that what we are now? Lovers?” Q enquired. But he didn’t give Bond time to answer, opting instead to silence him again with hunger lips.

Q could feel his body hum. As the electricity flowed between their bodies, Bond’s fingers gently scraping down Q’s back, Q wanted nothing more than to elicit the same sensations from the man beneath him. The man’s composure was breathtaking. He felt his skin tremble with anticipation and as if in answer to his silent plea, Q felt the same reaction from his Seven.

An image of a naked, glistening body belonging to a maddening, beautiful Double O agent appeared in his mind. Dangerously close, lost in the moment, before he could think, the name fell from his lips against his strangers own.

“James…” he rasped soft and low.

Everything went still and silent as both men absorbed the shared revelation.


	6. Chapter 6

If Bond had for but an instant thought that the situation in which he currently found himself could be any more delicious, he rapidly corrected that misconception.

“Fuck,” Q said, breaking the silence between them. “I’m sorry…” Bond felt Q shift his legs back as though to beat an embarrassed retreat.

Bond immediately bent his own legs at the knee behind Q, effectively tipping him back towards the straining fabric around his hips, trapping him between his torso and his still trousered thighs. Though not for long, Bond promised himself.

“Oh no you don’t,” Bond said firmly, causing Q to pause in his struggle to escape.

Q remained silent though Bond could sense the embarrassment ebbing from him and filtering into the space between them. The opportunity Bond had been waiting for had presented itself in a dark room to what Q knew to be nothing more than a stranger and it would be a cold day in the circle of the devil’s lair before Bond allowed this golden opportunity to slip away. Bond reigned back his enthusiasm before speaking calmly.

“That’s his name, isn’t it? The man you mentioned when we first met? Still causing you trouble is he?”

“You have no idea…,” Bond barely caught the whispered sigh but he did nonetheless.

He took a levelling breath before he continued. “Listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” Q spoke softly.

“You have my permission to use me to fantasise about this man. Let your inhibitions go and allow me to be the clay you mould into whatever shape you wish. I will do anything you consider appropriate - or inappropriate for that matter - to help you shake off this frustration.”

Q could her the genuineness in the words. He wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve such understanding. Perhaps Seven was right, Q mused.

Q however, found himself resistant. He couldn’t prevent the ingrained feeling of wrongness at his attraction to the agent.

“How very noble of you,” he said sardonically to the suddenly oppressive dark around him. Bond flexed his thighs again, moving his hips towards the Quartermaster to remind him that Q was the one in control and Bond was completely at his mercy.

“Do not fight yourself,” he whispered, the sound of his voice doing nothing to dampen Q’s growing enthusiasm for the idea. Bond’s form took shape before his eyes once more. “Tell me about him.”

“I can’t,” Q stammered. “It would be a breach of my personal code of conduct.”

“Something innocuous then,” Bond continued, relaxed now, even in his prone position.

Q thought for a moment. What harm could it truly do in this most anonymous of situations? No one would ever know, and it might even help to release the pent up feelings that coursed through him at the mere thought of Bond…

“He fascinates me. I— I want to know him. All of him. Inside and out. We are of a height, but his presence is all-consuming, imposing even. His eyes could penetrate steel. I feel as though he knows me like no one has ever before, ever even bothered to know.”

Relaxed now, Q resumed his gentle caress of Bond’s chest. “Sometimes, I feel as though I can’t breathe when I’m near him….” It was all Bond could do to keep his own breathing steady, feeling the drag of the far-off quality Q’s voice had taken lull him into the fantasy Q was weaving for himself.

Bond’s voice was hoarse, only just managing to maintain the Scottish inflections he had honed for these occasions. “If you don’t kiss me now…”

So Q did.

* * *

Emboldened by the confidence he could feel in the presence of his stranger, Q reluctantly broke the heated kiss. It’s escalation had driven him mad with hungry desire and after his willing concession to permit Q whatever he wanted to take from him in pursuit of his own satisfaction, Q was determined to demonstrate just how effective a lover he could be with the right incentives. He eagerly reached for the buttons on the man’s trousers allowing brief, light touches against his straining flesh, heightening both their anticipation.

“One more thing…” Bond moaned. Q paused, keen to meet whatever needs were asked of him.

“You mentioned his eyes, amongst his other attributes, in a way that suggested it had an effect on you. Are they… unusual somehow?”

Q continued his motions, wrapping his fingers around the waist of the man’s trousers to pull them gently down along with his boxers. Bond allowed himself a sigh, welcoming the release and escape from the material.

“They are captivating. I drown in them. Like lakes of frozen emotions…” Bond wished he could see Q’s eyes right now, imagining the dark pools, wide and wild with barely repressed lust.

Q crawled up Bond’s body and resumed the movement of his lips across the expanse of his chest.

Bond made the calculation in his mind and found he couldn’t resist taking the risk. Though he never rolled the dice without knowing where they were going to fall.

“Fortunately, you don’t have to imagine in that case then. From the description, I inherited a very similar set of eyes myself.” Q groaned while kissing him harder. “Jesus Fucking Christ,” he breathed, doing nothing to disguise the effect the words had on him. 

“Please,” he whispered, exhaling warm breath over Bond’s neck. “Please…”

Bond smiled at the pleading tone in Q’s voice. How could he deny him anything?

Unable to control the lust pulsing through his body, Q reached for him, his mouth quickly joining his hands.

Bond, still bound to the hook behind him, tossed his head back hard, embracing the pleasure with no inhibition, the image of Q burning bright in his mind’s eye bringing his eager and compliant body to completion making him almost unbearably hot.

He struggled to give form to his final words and the promise they held to Bond. A fantasy of his own that he had every intention of fulfilling.

Q breathed deeply before he spoke, the warm exhale a maddening caress against the agent’s cock. “I imagine you and I feel reckless. I would destroy the world just to build it again in your image…”

* * *

The best laid plans of mice and men, often go awry.

This was a fact to which Q could readily testify. He watched Bond stalk the perimeter of the room like a lazy lion waiting for his prey to come to him. Q felt the pang of long buried passion that only the sight of Bond could rouse within him. His blood sang as it rushed through his veins, sharpening senses and demanding fulfilment.

He had to get out before he did something reprehensible; profess his love, wrap Bond in his arms, kiss him until lips were raw and the bitter taste of his blood flooded his mouth.

Q retreated. There was only one thing to do. One place to go in search of release.

* * *

Bond frequently found the predictable pattern of human behaviour almost tiresome. But this was Q. Deliciously predictable in some ways, defying definition in so many others. The unmistakeable sense of his presence hovered behind him, no doubt weighing up their situation, now that they had found each other once again, or rather, now that Bond had lured him to exactly where he wanted him to be.

* * *

Q walked through the rooms, glancing to his left and right at the bodies, some stretched out, some casually sitting wrapped around the body of another. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. But his eyes found none that could measure up to Bond. So he entered the darkness and made his way across the room to sit down. Soft leather yielded to the weight of his body. He lay back and sighed, momentarily losing himself to the memory of a stranger he had met here before. A short spell of what felt like 20 minutes passed before Q felt the warmth of another body, recline next to him.

_“Ti andrebbe di compagnia?”_

Q’s understanding of any language besides English was woeful, but he knew enough to be able to apologise for his ignorance. _“_ _Perdonami. Inglese. Non parlo la lingua.”_

How fucking adorable, thought Bond to himself. _“Forse possiamo trovare un altro mezzo di comunicazione, allora…”_ he said as he reached for Q.

Q felt the blossoming familiarity at the feel of the kiss. He wondered briefly if every intimate interaction he would experience in the shadow of his obsession with Bond would be subsumed by his constant craving for the man. 

Q felt his skin tingle as blunt, calloused hands travelled up his back.

“ _Una bella creatura interessante,_ ” murmured Bond, the Italian inflections doing their job and increasing Q’s ardour as he pushed him down into the seat beneath them.

“Mmmmm,” said Q, pulling them together in a hard embrace that silenced them both, but for the sweet, heady sounds of shifting leather and soft, telling moans that closed the distance into a singular point of mutual pleasure.

Q woke alone in the dark a short time later. He hadn’t felt so satisfied in mind since colliding, writhing bodies with his Seven.

He ran his hand across his face and through his hair. This was unsustainable, and dangerous in its own way, though less so than perhaps baring your throat to the mouth of a registered assassin, he thought wryly. Still, Q wondered how many more times he would - he could - deny himself the one source of pleasure he truly, achingly desired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter tonight!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done! The Vault was one of my favourite Hannigram scribblings & I think it (sort of!) works for 00Q.

**One Year Later**

Q passed through security as usual, steeling himself for the day ahead. He paused to look at the wall on which was written the names of every MI6 agent that had fallen in duty to their country.

His gaze lingered on the most recent addition to the list.

_Commander James Bond._

* * *

Except he wasn’t dead was he.

Of course he fucking wasn’t.

Q woke up in Medical, having promptly fainted at the sight of the apparition lingering by his workstation when he wandered into Q Branch ten minutes later.

“You’re dead.”

“Obviously you were misinformed.”

Bond was standing at the bottom of his bed, larger than life itself.

Q sat up slowly, not taking his eyes of Bond for fear he would disappear again. Bond just smiled and Q scowled in return.

“Bastard.”

“Yes. But a bastard who’s going to take you home.”

To this day, Q would never understand why he didn’t tell him to fuck off there and then.

But he never could say no to the blue-eyed monster.

* * *

Bond grabbed his upper arms and tossed Q unceremoniously onto his bed, sending the two bundles of fur scurrying for the safety of the other room.

Q raised himself on his elbows and made to back away up the mattress and out of Bond’s reach, but too quick, the man grabbed his ankles and pulled him towards him again, flat onto the bed as Bond moved above him.

“There are many things of which I think little in this world, Q,” Bond stated, bracing himself above his body.

“Intellectually, life is a wondrous and satisfying experience. Emotionally, I’ve found it somewhat lacking.” Seeing the intent on Bond’s face that would not be denied, Q twisted his body and turned onto his stomach.

“Until I discovered you,” he whispered, pressing himself further into Q’s splayed form.

Q’s heart pounded wildly, reverberating through the soft blankets, now strewn across his bed during their struggle. The want was almost overpowering. He closed his eyes and concentrated his mind.

“I’ve waited long enough for this,” said Bond, calm determination telling in every move he made to divest Q of his clothing. Bond’s intent was simple: to coalesce into one kiss, every previous encounter both in light and in dark, that he had known with Q, and Q, had unknowingly shared with him.

“You realise in your resistance, futile as it is, you are denying yourself as much as you are denying me…” Bond’s words tingled on the back of his neck. He took his jaw gently between fingers and made to turn Q’s lips towards his own.

Q tilted his head back, out of immediate reach. “No.”

“No?”

Q gave a small shake of his head. “No kissing.”

“May I ask why?” enquired Bond, resting his lips against Q’s ear, leaning closer still and trapping his own arousal between their bodies.

Q had no intention of giving up that information to Bond. The thought of sealing what they were with something as intimate as a kiss was unacceptable to Q in that moment.

“I just— I just want to feel you. I want you inside me.”

Bond paused for no more than a beat. “Very well,” acquiescing to the request safe in the knowledge that the upper hand remained his.

As he moved with gentle purpose, Bond resorted to using one piece of intimate knowledge about Q that he knew would crumble his defences. In the throes of his own passion he pulled out suddenly and rolled him onto his back, locking their gazes, leaving Q unable to look away.

And that, as they say, was that for the Quartermaster.

At the peak of his climax, he had one clarifying realisation. The memories of his nights together with his other blue-eyed stranger flashed in his mind. Now, instead of his faceless lover, Bond lay there, waiting for him.

And given that fate had determined he had no say in the matter, Q surrendered himself.

* * *

**_Epilogue_ **

Q felt the grip around his waist tighten. Affectionate, possessive. All Bond. His Bond. “Q?”

He opened his eyes to meet those of his saviour and Angel of Death. His gaze longing, trailed up Bond’s blood-soaked body to his lips. His face was inches away from Q’s own. His breath quickened. Q felt his hands move almost of their own volition up Bond’s arms, skim across his shoulders and come to rest either side of his neck, tense from the adrenaline-fuelled response coursing through his body. His thumbs gently caressed the smooth jawline beneath.

“Beautiful…”

It was the only word Bond heard Q murmur against his lips before bringing them together. 

Q felt his heart burst into a thousand shards of bloodied glass, radiating outwards, pushing through every pore of his skin.

It was only after many moments of exploration that Q drew them apart, realisation clear in his eyes. “You,” he whispered, before bringing their lips together again, the kiss agonisingly tender in its gentleness.

He inhaled deeply as he allowed his eyes to slip shut, struggling to process so many simultaneous sensory reactions pulsing through his mind. The smell of the man tasting him, so familiar yet so new. The sensation of his tongue against Q’s own, smooth, gentle and sensual between barely open lips, twisted the shards pushing through Q’s skin. The ripples of each move echoed achingly through his body as memories of The Vault converged in his mind. In an attempt to alleviate the physical ache, Q felt Bond draw their bodies closer still, moulding them together effortlessly.

“It was always you.” Q whispered, leaning his head against Bond’s shoulder and drawing his arm around his neck, not trusting his own body to remain upright. Q gave himself permission to drown, to open completely and flood his senses. For the first time, he truly understood Bond. Not just the killer within, but the depths of the man himself, and the barely contained, endless passion he held for Q.

Some people describe that “kiss,” the one that overshadows every other touch of lips that ever preceded it, as a feeling of falling into an abyss, swallowed up by the Earth, drowning, consumed whole.

Qfelt as though he’d found a place among the stars.

Finally free.


End file.
